


I Don't Have the Heart

by erinville99



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amish, Brothers, F/M, Feels, First Love, Forbidden Love, Tornado, Tropes, Young Love, captainswan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinville99/pseuds/erinville99
Summary: Killian Jones is a young Amish man who is settling for less than love. After a tornado wrecks their community, a local church family volunteers assistance with rebuilding. Among the volunteers is a feisty blonde named Emma. Despite all common sense, he falls hard and fast for her and must ultimately choose between his love and the only life he's ever known.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	I Don't Have the Heart

His faithful Belgian trots up the well worn dirt path to her farm; the winding hillside finally yielding to the sight of the old white farmhouse. The vantage point from the top leaves him in breathless wonderment, much like it did when he was a child. He has long thought of the Gold farm as having the most beautiful view of the rolling Missouri hills and valleys. He fastens Charles to the nearby post and softly pats his muzzle, but ultimately leaves him hitched to the buggy. After all, he will only be a few minutes. Killian, always the gentleman, assists Milah with her departure from the carriage. They stand on her porch making polite conversation about the early June humidity, before he bids her farewell and presses a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. She stops him as he turns to go by grabbing his hand and pulling it to her own lips.

“You could come in, Killian. No one has to know.” She bats her eyelashes, but he gives a half hearted smile. What she is insinuating is dangerous, not to mention completely forbidden. Even if being alone with her was socially acceptable, he’s not at the stage in their courtship where he could be convinced to exchange his soul for the allure of pleasures of the flesh. That’s the ultimate problem, he supposes, that he has yet to meet a woman who makes his heart race and his body ache with want. As nearly fifteen years his senior, at least Milah has a sensible head on her shoulders when it comes to matters of courtship. She needs a husband to help her run this farm, and he needs a wife to produce children and warm his bed. Such is the way of Amish life. Yet, somewhere deep in his mind, he dares to wonder _what if._ He notices he has yet to respond to her query and focuses his eyes on her.

“I dare not tempt myself, lass. I’ll see you in church Sunday next.” He presses his thumb to the dimple on her chin. She playfully rolls her eyes at him as he tips his hat in a final goodbye. He drives his buggy over a mile down the hillside road, until he reaches the fencing of his brother’s farm. He is grateful for the home Liam has given him. Not many brothers would agree to care for their younger to the lengths at which Liam has. Killian unhitches his buggy and tucks Charles in the barn, making sure he has an adequate supply of water. The sun hasn’t fully set, far from it, but he can feel the summer heat start to dissipate. He removes his hat to wipe the sweat from his brow, his dark locks sticking to his face and neck. He runs his fingers through them, granting his forehead access to a subtle breeze and he sighs in relief. Charles makes a grunt from his stall and Killian saunters up to it.

“Charlie, old boy, what do you think of Milah? You could live there with me if you wanted.” He is startled by a cold hand on his neck, jumping from the unexpected contact.

“Oye, you having conversations with animals now, Killian? You could come in and chat with your real family. Just a thought, little brother.”

“Aye, just thinking.” He retreats outside to the water pump, working the handle until his hands fill with cool clean water. He rinses the dirt from his fingers and splashes another handful on his face.

“How was your afternoon, brother? You’re just in time for supper. Belle and the boys are waiting for you.”

“Great. I’m starving. ” He walks shoulder to shoulder with Liam as they climb the porch steps. He holds the door open for his brother and they walk inside. This house has been his home since he was eight. It has always been filled with love and joy, not to mention the smell of home cooked meals. His beloved sister-in-law, Belle, is perhaps an even better cook than his aunt was. Just as Liam mentioned, his young nephews are waiting for him. Three little sandy blondes are sitting politely in a row, but their eyes light up upon seeing their uncle.

“Hello, lads. I trust you enjoyed your day of rest?”

“Yes, Uncle Killy,” the middle boy replies. “Mama is teaching me how to read. We read a book under the maple tree.” Killian realizes he has unknowingly initiated a sore subject when Liam looks harshly at Belle. He mouths a silent apology to her.

“Belle, he’s four. There are better ways to spend your day than wasting it on something he’ll learn in school in a couple years, anyway.”

“But, Liam! He’s more interested in learning than William was at his age. It never hurts to give him a jump start.” He can see Liam’s fists clench. 

“As head of this household, I’m saying we don’t waste time on menial tasks!” Killian has to interject.

“Liam, it is Sunday, after all. If the lad wishes to learn, perhaps Belle can save her lessons exclusively for this day of the week.” Liam mulls the idea over before speaking.

“Fine. The other six days he needs to be in the field with me. It’s high time he leaves his mother’s side and learns to be a man.”

“Fine,” Belle agrees. Even if she disagreed, it would be frowned upon if she said so. The family has a moment of silence before eating and Belle discreetly squeezes Killian’s hand in thanks under the table. As the family begins to eat, he notices her rubbing her swollen abdomen and wincing.

“How are you feeling today, sister?” Raising three rambunctious boys while running a household can’t be an easy task, but she has risen to the occasion with grace and patience. 

“I’m fine, thank you, Killian. This little one has been active today. She may make her appearance earlier than expected.” Liam scoffs.

“I’ve told you not to get your hopes up on having a daughter, there hasn’t been a Jones girl born in five generations.”

“You’ll be eating your words when she gets here, Liam Jones.” Sadly, Liam is right. Jones men have proved incapable of producing female offspring.

“Killian, talk some sense into your sister-in-law.”

“Sorry lass, I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Well, then both of you will be eating crow!” They share a chuckle. Belle is a good wife and mother. It is Killian’s fervent wish to find a woman as kind as her to raise his future sons.

“How was Milah?” she asks. Of course she brings up his courtship.

“Fine,” he curtly replies.

“Fine? That’s all you have to say about the woman you’re courting. You could be a little more romantic.” 

“What needs to be said? It’s a sensible match. Killian would inherit the Gold farm and Milah already knows what it takes to run a household,” Liam says. Killian rubs the heel of his hand across his brows. He doesn’t wish to discuss matters he hasn’t yet processed himself.

“Aye. She wants to announce our engagement at the end of summer, she doesn't want to miss this wedding season.”

“Nor should she. She’s in her mid-thirties, Killian. If you want many children, you can’t afford to wait another year.” As always, Belle can feel the tension radiating from him. She pats the top of his hand.

“Killian, no one is forcing you into this. I know you feel sorry for her. What happened to her husband is awful, but it’s not your obligation to step up and take his place.”

“It’s not like that, I care for her. I do. It’s just…”

“Just nothing, brother. You’re already one and twenty, every other young man your age is already married. You had your opportunity to court any number of girls and you barely tried or cared. Now, it’s too late. Milah is your best chance at this point. I don’t know why you hesitate.”

“You’re right, Liam. Milah’s not a starry eyed teenager. She has no disillusions of me being madly in love with her, either. She needs a man to help continue Robert’s business, and I can continue making furniture instead of being a farmer. Logically, it makes perfect sense.” He pauses. “But, what if there’s more out there?”

“You thank God for the blessings in your life, Killian, not cast them aside.”

“You’re right, brother.”

“Besides, I need you out. We could really use your bedroom for the boys.” He’s teasing, of course, but there is some truth laced to his statement.

“Oye!” Killian’s exaggerated look of hurt has his nephews giggling and he sticks his tongue out at them.

After their meal, he helps the family clean up and bids them goodnight. Killian kneels by his bed that night and prays for guidance. “Dear Lord, bless my family and keep them safe. I thank You for the gifts in my life. Most of all, if this isn’t my path, please set me straight. Let me make decisions that are only pleasing to You. I’m fairly daft Lord, you’ll have to give me a sign. Amen.” He tucks himself in, but sleep evades him. He tries to imagine his future. He can picture that weathered hilltop farmhouse. He can smell the grass and the aroma of the honeysuckle that grows nearby. He can even picture a few children. Two raven haired boys are pushing each other on a tire swing. They call out to their mother, who is standing on the porch, round with child. He squints, desperately trying to picture her face, but falls asleep in the process of doing so.

No more than a few hours later, his slumber is shattered by the sound of breaking glass.

“Bloody hell!” He climbs out of bed and slips his boots, pants, and suspenders on, inspecting the shards on the floor. Still groggy from sleep, it takes a few moments to realize his window is no more and the wind is roaring like it’s the end of the world outside. Liam frantically barges into his room.

“Brother, it’s a cyclone, we need to get Belle and the boys to safety!” He and the family run to the basement. Killian scoops up his youngest nephew, Samuel, and clutches him to his chest. The house is shaking and he fears these are the last moments of his life. The howling is nearly unbearable, but he can’t hold his ears, for fear of dropping the lad in his arms. Samuel is shaking and the other boys are sobbing uncontrollably into their parents’ clothing as they snuggle into a corner of the basement. Liam, who is usually the sensible one, has a wild look of fear in his eyes. It feels like an eternity, but at last silence comes. Killian peeks open his eyes. His family is unharmed and the walls around them are still intact. Upon further inspection, they discover that with the exception of a few broken windows, their family home is untouched. It will be impossible to find sleep now, but Liam helps the boys back into bed with their mother and Killian grabs him and Liam a lantern.

Their barn is unharmed, but the family buggy is overturned. Charlie and the other horses are spooked, but otherwise alright. Liam drops to his knees and thanks God for sparing his family. There isn’t much they can do in the dead of night, so they sit on the porch with their lanterns and wait on the sunrise. Killian is able to get a couple more hours of sleep against a porch beam after his adrenaline crash. He awakens with dawn’s earliest rays.

“Liam! Wake up, brother, you must see this!” The elder Jones stands with him as they walk a few paces from the porch. Their eyes are met with the sight of total devastation. Debris clutters every field, farm, and road their eyes can see. Homes have been leveled and farmland destroyed. Pieces of barns and homes litter the hills and valleys of their small community. They flip the buggy right side up with the help of the horses. They hitch up, fearful of what they’ll find, but they must survey the damage. Killian sighs in relief when he sees the Gold family farmhouse still standing proudly. 

“I need to at least check on her, brother.”

“Of course. Why don’t you invite her to stay with Belle. She will be family in a few months, after all.” Something about the statement leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Family. How can you transition from employee to husband in less than a year?

“I’ll try, but I don’t think she’ll go for it.”

“It’s not healthy for a woman to endure so much solitude, honesty I’m amazed the elders agreed to let her stay here alone.”

“You underestimate the influence Robert had on them, Liam. She knows she'll need a husband to help her maintain this. If we don't marry, someone will have to take her in before winter.” 

Milah is waiting on the porch as they pull up. He exits, leaving his brother in the buggy.

“Thank goodness, Killian. I thought last night was my last.” She embraces him in an awkward hug that he slinks out of.

“I had to check on you, lass. I was relieved to see the house standing.”

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. I just don’t think I’ll have the energy to cook anything today, my nerves are shot. Do you think you could bring me some breakfast?”

“Actually, Belle should be preparing a meal for the boys by now, would you like to join her?”

“I’m a bit shaken, I think I’ll stay put. I’ve got some leftovers I can eat.”

“Very well, but the offer still stands. I’ll come check on you at supper, then.” 

“You could stay with me, Killian.”

“I can’t do that, Milah. People are likely injured or needing assistance.” 

“You also have a duty to care for your wife.”

“I don’t have one of those yet,” he teasingly replies. Her eyes grow wide in shock and she stomps back in the house. It’s not like him to be a smartass, so he’ll blame it on his secular raising he received in his early years. He doesn’t reveal to Liam what he said to her. He really doesn’t feel like a swat to the back of the head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By days’ end, 38 men, women, and children are found dead in the debris, including many leaders of the church. They pool together their resources for a mass funeral and make plans to rebuild. With only a handful of homes fully standing, they decide that building a large common house would be the best strategy, until each home can be repaired. The women work together to plan out meals for those in need, while the men start work on the common house. Killian takes charge of the project. Where Liam excels in the fields, his expertise lies in construction. Within hours, plans are made and timber is cut. The structure itself is massive, but it’s essentially no different than a barn raising. Around noon, a pick up truck pulls into the field where they’re working. He fails to notice until his best friend, Will, gets his attention.

“Oye, Killian. Who do you reckon that is? It’s odd to see a modern vehicle on Amish land, most outsiders leave us alone.” As it turns out, it’s a man from the neighboring town. He’s tall, sandy blonde, and approaches them with caution. Killian and Will walk out to meet him halfway. He looks leery of the Amish men, but surely the stranger knows no harm will befall him. There are two passengers left behind in the truck, but he can’t make out their features. Killian never realized how intimidating and unapproachable he was. The man sticks out his hand.

“Good morning, fellas. I’m Pastor David Nolan from the nearby Pentecostal church. My congregation wanted to stop by and ask if you needed any help. After the recent tornado, your community took a pretty hard hit. I wasn’t sure if you’d allow us, but we've got many strong men who are willing to help out with repairs.” The Amish men look at each other first. With many of their elders perished, no one yet knew who was in charge. Will shrugs, but Killian is the one who welcomes the stranger first, extending his right hand.

“Killian Jones. We are currently working on a large shelter for our displaced families to temporarily live in. If you have the manpower, we could certainly use the help. I’ll warn you though, my people are quite stubborn and have a certain way of doing things. Your men would have to agree to take directions as they are given.” The man smiles and gives his hand a firm shake.

“I think I can manage that.” Killian decides he likes this man. He is warm and friendly and he seems to be a genuine person, a man of God at that. “I brought along my wife and daughter. They can help the women cook or clean or simply help clear the debris.”

“Aye, but I must warn you that our women are more stubborn than our men, better if they stay out of the kitchen.” He winks while David laughs and motions toward his pick-up. A petite brunette slides out of the passenger seat, her hair is cut short and when she walks toward David, there is a certain affection present in her smile. This must be his wife. The second passenger to exit is a younger woman with long blonde hair and sunglasses. As she nears him, she removes her sunglasses and Killian’s very breath is stolen from his body. She is absolutely a vision. Her hair falls past her shoulders like silken rays of sunshine. Her features are soft and delicate and behind her pink lips is a radiant smile that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. Her eyes are deep emerald pools that Killian finds himself drowning in. She is perfect and the desire to taste her lips overwhelms him. He shakes himself from his stupor, nervously scratching behind his ear. He then remembers that they have an audience, as his brother and a few others have circled closely around them.

“Mr. Jones, I’d like you to meet my wife, Mary Margaret.” Killian shakes her hand and she extends her condolences. “And my daughter, Emma.” He again extends his hand and the instant they make contact, Killian is hooked. He just stands there latched onto her delicate fingers, pulse racing, until his brother coughs beside him and he drops her hand. 

“Pastor Nolan, this is my brother, Liam, and some of our men.” He turns to address his people. “Men this is David Nolan, he is the leader of a local church, I have accepted their offer of assistance.”

“Nice to meet all of you! If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a few phone calls and get my men here quickly.”

“Of course,” Killian replies.

“Little brother, may I speak to you privately?” Liam whispers.

“Yes. Excuse me, ladies.” He walks several feet away before Liam begins accosting him.

“Killian, you are in no position to make such an agreement.” It's amusing how much his elder brother resembles his two year old son in mid-tantrum.

“Brother, we are in no shape to refuse the help. The harvest will be upon us soon, what is left of the crops will need to be tended and we cannot be in two places at once. I am not too proud to accept help.”

“What do you know of farming, Killian? You’ve spent the last three years making furniture for the Gold family. You’ve scarcely participated in the harvest.” His brother’s biting tone, cuts him deeply, but he knows in his bones accepting the help is the right thing to do.

“Well, this year will be different then, brother.” He walks away from Liam and toward the Nolan women. “If you’d like, I can escort you to our family home. I can assume you don’t want to spend your day with some sweaty bearded men.”

“Actually that doesn’t sound so bad,” Emma says. He doesn’t know her well enough to know if that is meant in jest. Her mother elbows her, shooting her a look that tells him that maybe she was flirting. He is not sure his pounding heart could take it if she was, so he brushes off the comment.

“There is also clean up duty in the field down yonder, but I’m sure you’d rather work with Belle, my, uh, sister-in-law. She will be needing some help with the children.”

“Absolutely, whatever we can do to help, right, Emma?”

“Actually, I think I’ll help clean up, mom.”

“Emma, you love children, why not come with me?”

“I don’t want to get in the way of the women, mom.”

“It’s settled. Mrs. Nolan, I can drop you off at my family farm. Sounds like it’s Old Man Petersheim’s farm for you, Miss Emma. I believe clean up is starting there.”

“Perfect, let’s go.” Emma flashes a confident, almost smug look at her mother.

The three load into the buggy and Killian takes them down the hill to the family farm. He introduces them to Belle, who is outside doing laundry and is grateful for the help. Always good at reading his thoughts, she looks to Killian, then Emma, then back again, lifting a quizzical brow. He shoots her a look that says _not now._

“Killian, dear, are you sure you don’t want to stay? I daresay you got a little too much sun, your cheeks are pink.”

“I’m fine, sister. It’s just a tad warm today. Take care of Mrs. Nolan for me.”

“Oh, you aren’t staying, Emma?”

“No, I’m going to help the clean up of a field or two.”

“I see. Well, I can grab you a sun hat. We can’t have that pretty blonde head getting burned.”

“Oh, it’s fine.”

“I insist. Killy, could you help me find it real quick?” The use of his undesired nickname usually does not bode well for him.

“Aye. Miss Emma, you can wait by the buggy if you’d like, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.”

Belle practically drags him upstairs to one of the rooms, whacking him on the back of the head.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“You know very well what that’s for! It’s for the way you gaze at that girl like she’s hung the moon. I’ve waited years for you to look at someone like that, and when you do, it’s an outsider! Your brother will knock you senseless.” He sighs and sits on the bed, rubbing his temples. “Great! It’s worse than I thought, you don’t even deny it.”

“Don’t tell Liam. Please.” She sits next to him and pats his leg. 

“I won’t. I love you too much to want you dead.” He laughs. “She is beautiful, Killian. Please, just be careful. Promise you won’t get in too deep. Physical attraction can be a powerful thing.”

“So you think I’m going to find the nearest hay bale and have my way with her? You know me better than that! Besides, I don’t even know if she’s married.”

“One way to find out.” She tiptoes to an open window and shouts down to the women. “Emma, do you want a white or black bonnet?”

“Oh, I don’t have a color preference.”

“White is reserved for married women, black is for singles.”

“Black it is then,” Emma replies. Belle retrieves a black bonnet from a nearby cabinet and pushes the garment against his chest. 

"You sir, needn't forget you're a gentleman." With a passing nod, he heads back outside to find Emma leaning up against his buggy and he hands her the black bonnet.

“You know, I probably won’t even wear this. I have a pony tail holder in my pocket.”

“I don’t know what that is, lass, but just smile and wave at Belle, please.” She does, then promptly climbs the carriage step to the driver’s bench.

“What’re you doing?”

“What does it look like, I’m riding shotgun.”

“Pardon?”

“When you ride next to the driver, it’s called shotgun.”

“My brother will use a shotgun if he sees you riding next to me.”

“It’s a good thing he’s back up the hill, then.” He doesn't respond for fear of becoming a stuttering mess. He climbs up next to her and the sudden lack of distance is intoxicating. He’s sure Belle is watching from the window as they drive away, and he’s praying that not many others notice that he’s toting a stranger around unchaperoned. This close to her, he catches the smell of lavender. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The sweet fragrance engulfs him, reminding him of a time long ago, when his mother would lotion him up after a bath. He traces it's origin to her hair that is currently brushing his shoulder. He then becomes conscious of his own odor as they turn left and down a dirt road. Rest assured, he doesn't smell like flowers.

“You’re awfully tense, Killian. If it bothers you that much I’ll get inside the carriage.”

“No, lass. It’s fine. I’ve just never really been around outsiders before.”

“Well, I’ve never ridden in an Amish man’s buggy, so we’re even.” He laughs and it immediately relaxes him. Playful banter is definitely something he could get used to.

“It’s about a two mile drive up ahead, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, space from mother is a good thing.” He more than understands the need for space from family members who smother a bit too much. He takes in her appearance. She is wearing a simple cotton shirt and jeans, perhaps ready for a day of hard work.

“Forgive me, lass, but don’t Pentecostals wear skirts.”

“Forgive me, _lad,_ but I’ve never met an Amish with the surname Jones before.” He's taken aback by her bluntness and he swears his eyebrows climb on top of his head with that statement. She's not wrong, though, he does have a story to tell.

“I’ll answer first. My mother, Alice, was the one who was born Amish. Miller was her surname. She fell in love with a British import named Brennan Jones and subsequently left the church. The man turned out to be a total rogue who left her with two young sons when she became very ill. After her passing, her sister agreed to adopt and raise us in the Amish church, with approval of the elders, of course. I think they only took us in only because they had no children of their own. They passed a while back, leaving Liam the family farm.”

“Wow, that’s quite a story. I’m afraid the skirt issue can only be chalked up to teenaged pride. I just don’t think that God cares if I wear a skirt or jeans. Though, father encouraged me not to wear shorts today, he didn’t want me to scandalize you.” He laughs, but the thought of seeing Emma’s bare legs leaves his breeches uncomfortably tight. He admonishes himself before the impure thoughts infiltrate his mind. They sit in (mostly) comfortable silence before she speaks again.

“Where’s your beard? I mean, I see your awful bowl cut, but I expected more facial hair.”

“If by bowl cut you’re referring to my hair, I resent that comment.” He removes his hat for emphasis and she heartily laughs.

“It’s pretty bad. I mean, I know it’s tradition and everything, but wow!” Who is this girl? No female has ever teased or talked back to him. Amish women are raised to be submissive. He finds her challenge refreshing and decides to lower his guard and dish it right back to her. 

“You are quite bold for a thirteen year old!” He knows good and well she’s much older than that, but is curious and excited to see her reaction. She doesn’t disappoint.

“Excuse me, buddy! I am eighteen! I start college in Boston in the fall!” She presses her index finger into his shoulder. “And just how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one. And per your original question I won’t grow a beard until I get married.” He sees the tattered field just ahead, and it fills him with sadness. “We’re here, lass. Let me introduce you.” Several freshly teenaged boys and girls are repairing the field and carrying debris into a nearby pile.

“Oye, this is Emma, she and her local church are going to help us. Please show her the ropes. 

“Killian?” A young newly orphaned boy named Henry approaches them.

“Yes, lad?”

“Have they found my mama yet?” Killian’s heart bleeds for him. He knows what it’s like to lose a mother. He places a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“No, lad. But, I swear to find you the moment they do. Listen, I need you to take care of my friend, Emma. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.” He pats the side of his face and the boy scurries off to his friends, talking animatedly about the newcomer.

“That’s a good lad," he says. He extends his hand to Emma once again. "Lass, I was lovely meeting you. I am going to take my bowl cut and body odor back up the road.”

“Nice meeting you, too. And it’s a shame about the beard.”

“Why?”

“I think you’d look really handsome with one.” He blushes and he knows it’s a deep blush by the warmth sinking into his cheeks. He may or may not miss the carriage step completely when sliding onto the driver's bench. She is not the first person to call him handsome, but it’s the first time he’s affected by the flattering words. Even when Milah- he pales. Milah! How could he be so caught up in a stranger that he forgets about the woman he’s courting! He has to make a necessary detour before returning to the men. He tips his hat to Emma before driving away, berating himself for being so absorbed in her. She’s the first female outside their community that he’s actually held a conversation with in over a decade, of course he’d be interested in her. Midway to Gold’s farm, he’s convinced himself that he’ll never even see her again. Yet, when he closes his eyes to imagine his future, the image has shifted. The boys are still on the tire swing, but next to them is a little girl with bouncing blonde curls. 


End file.
